Tracer Bullet: Reploid Detective
by MichiganDJKing
Summary: Tracer Bullet from Calvin and Hobbes gets a makeover and is now a Reploid Detective. He's the ultimate crime buster of his time, but some nasty stuff is gonna go down. Time Travel, X and Zero, Ciel and more! Rated PG-13 for STRONG LANGUAGE.
1. This starts now

_Hey. The name's Tracer Bullet. I'm a private eye, it says so right on the office door. I'm a Reploid, one who likes a drink now and then. Private Eye isn't an easy job, it's got no description, which is harder to figure out than how to fix a pump action shotgun when it was loaded wrong. _  
_It was a normal day, nothing much happening. Another baffling case had just come to me that I'd finished, but then, you don't hire private eyes for the easy cases..._   
  
CHAPTER ONE   
  
_Today I'd planned to take th' day off, spend a lot of quality time with a couple of friends of mine. My friends travel light and they're a barrel of monkeys when they're around. One travels in a holster, and the other in a hip flask. And at all times, I like to keep two magnums in my desk. One's a gun, and I keep it loaded. The other's a bottle and it keeps ME loaded. Always be prepared, that's what I was taught. _  
_But a client came into my office. He looked like he had a case. His bank had been robbed. A minor job, but it's what get's the bills paid. Especially Bill, my Bookie, and Bill, my Security guard for the building. It's a tough job, despite it's minority, but I'm a tough guy._   
  
"So your bank was robbed."   
"Yeah. I want you to find out who did it."   
"I figured that much."   
"So how much is it gonna cost me?"   
"10."   
"WHAT?! I'll give you 5."   
"8."   
"6."   
"7 and a half."   
"Deal."   
"Now get outta here. I gotta work in peace."   
  
_He left my office. 7.5 grand was a nice price. I pulled out my file cabinet. I was looking for my suspects. Filed under S, of course._   
  
"Well, there we are. Bank robbing suspects and leads to suspects. That's the file."   
  
_I took it out and flipped through it. As I looked, a name caught my eye. 'Barnum Circus Acts'._   
  
"Alright. Now to the bank."   
  
_It wasn't going to be easy. I knew that. Bank heists were never easy. Well, not usually. Hopefully the guy was the kind who'd rob a store and only take marshmellows. _  
  
_When I arrived at the bank, hoping to see shattered windows and scared clerks, all I saw was a large monitor showing losses of money. Probably from the bank heist. I decided to take a look around._   
  
"Who's the manager here?"   
"I am."   
  
_He was tall and skinny. Not what I was expecting...I was expecting short and fat, but you never know. He was young, another thing I wasn't expecting._   
  
"What happened?"   
"The bank was robbed. Electronically."   
  
_Damn. This case was going to be hard. Something I don't often like._   
  
"I don't know how much I can do. But I can try to do what I can. Got a laptop?"   
"Yeah."   
"Thanks."   
  
_I took a look around for lost traces of this and that, maybe an IP address, which was what I found._   
  
"Found it."   
"You did?"   
"Yeah. Easy as loadin' a hammer lock."   
"Thank God."   
"I'll be back ASAP... however long THAT could be."   
  
_The place was from the city limits, a place I dared not go. Not in Detroit. If it were the city limits by the Detroit River... maybe I'd have cared less. Canadians aren't scary. But people with dispositions are. _  
_I was familiar with the building the bank was robbed from. It was an old building that used to be a real hideout for criminals. Then the police found out about it. Ever since, only an idiot would go there. Or so the police thought. I knew it was someone cunning, someone with a brain. That meant seven and a half thousand was too damn low._   
  
_Rain was coming down hard, flooding Detroit's night streets. It wasn't a pretty sight to see, but then again, neither was the area of town I was in. _  
  
_I went up to the building, not really something I wished to do. It smelled like three-day-old meatloaf. _  
  
_I went inside and went up to the top of the steps. There was nothing there but a door, which had a blue light glowing from the other side like a neon light. _  
  
_I made myself inconspicuous, and entered._   
  
"Anyone here?"   
"Yeah. Who are you?"   
"Just someone who needs a place for the night. I got lost, I'm from Boston."   
"...Are you a cop? Gumshoe? Fed?"   
"No. I just own a small restaurant."   
"Oh. Well, come in."   
"Nice place you have here. Some heavy duty hardware for computers..."   
"Yeah. I just pulled off a big job with these."   
"What kind of job?"   
"That's private."   
"C'mon, tell me! I'm not gonna rat you out if it's illegal, I've done illegal things m'self."   
"Like what?"   
"Well, the whole Eastern United States is under Prohibition, Pennsylvania to Maine. I'm a bootlegger."   
"Well then, I feel safe knowing that. I pulled a huge bank heist."   
"Wow... no security problems?"   
"Nope. Pulled it off from here."   
"How?"   
"Computer hacking and advanced technology."   
"Amazing."   
"Well, grab the bed, lay down. You can stay the night, but any longer and I'll make you rent it."   
"Yeah yeah, sure thing."   
  
_This was good. I had him where I wanted him. But I couldn't let on. This cherade was working perfectly, and all I had to do was keep it up until tomorrow morning...I just was thankful he had only half a brain and no common sense. He was going around with his safety on…_


	2. Short, Sweet and To The Point

Chapter Two   
  
_I woke up around 6:30. He looked asleep infront of a computer from my angle, so I quietly got up._   
  
"Finally you're awake."   
"What?"   
"My alarm went off at 5:30, I wondered how long you were gonna be asleep."   
"Well..."   
"So, what's your plan for today?"   
  
_I put my gun to his head. I saw his head begin to sweat. It's a funny thing when criminals are scared._   
  
"You're gonna take me to your boss's room."   
"I can't do that."   
"Then you find a large hole in your head, and part of your BRAIN missing."   
"...I still can't do that."   
"Then we use creative liberties to get you to DO that."   
"Like?"   
"Tracer Bullet. I'm a private investigator. You will take me to your boss."   
"I still can't do that."   
"Then we lie. I'm going to be the new guy. I want to join. You will get me to him."   
"...I guess I cannot refuse with the current situation... But I'll do it on one condition."

_I never like the sound of that phrase. I never did. And frankly, I never will._

"That being?"

"I want you to ensure my safety."

"I can't ensure your safety from OTHERS. Just from me."  
"That's all I need. Let's go."   
  
_We got into his car. He was very passive, and did what he was told. I don't like passive people normally, but he proved useful and I was going to spare his life in case I needed him again. But you never tell people that you're sparing them right away. Just to increase the tension. __  
  
The boss's office was in a casino, and I really didn't pay attention because I'm not a casino gambler. We whisked pass the security, and headed to the boss's room. It was elegant and flamboyant. I hated it._ _Lots of gold statues, mirrors, and enough lavish stuff to make pharaohs look like poor white guys. This motherfucker died now._  
  
"BRODIE! What the hell have you brought here to me?"   
"Sir, he wants to work with us."   
"OH YEAH? Well what can he do for us?"   
"I'm a bootlegger, sir."   
"OH! OH! Well, consider yourself family…IF you prove yourself."   
"How can I do that sir?"

"Well, if you can show me that you're going to be loyal, I can consider you a part of my family."

This was bad. This was VERY bad, especially since I work alone and don't trust to many God damned people. Nor do I give out my trust to just anyone. I just hoped I was a good enough actor to pull this off.

"How can I show you loyalty?"

"There's a client who hasn't paid up."

"Take care of business?"

"Indeed."

"Where is he located?"

He threw me a sheet of paper. Unfortunately, the guy who was behind on dues was also a former client of mine. Not only was this a great way to make him pay up MY dues, but gain the trust of this moronic family as well. I guess not all godfathers are Don Corleones. I headed over to the Eastern Detroit home. That idiot who I'd caught earlier, Brodie, didn't come along. This was ideal.

"OH SHIT! TRACER!"

"That's right. Thought you'd never see me?"

"I'm working on getting your money, really I am!"

_I cocked my .45 Raptor Magnum._ "Yeah. Then how you gonna pay the Don?"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM?!"

_I pulled the trigger part of the way._ "I'm collecting."

"For the Don?"

"For us both. You got 90 seconds to produce the cash you owe. And yes, for me, you pay CASH."

"You aren't going to kill me, are you?"

"Don said not to worry about sparing you." _He ran to the bedroom. He pulled out three mattresses._ "And with just three seconds left before your death… Count it out. Four grand for me. COUNT IT OUT."

"There's one thousand… two thousand…three… ok, there's four thousand."

"How much do you owe the don?"

"Everything else."

He died after that sentence. Cruel yes, but he was a pest to us both. The Don was to think of it as a favor. I headed back to the Don's office.

"Great job, son. You're in."  
It had worked perfectly. Now all I needed was to play the cards right. So far, I'd been drawn a royal flush in clubs. Now, all I needed was to was wait to strike...

_There was a really good thing about this whole case that'd happened. What I realized is that bringing in this Don would cash in major amounts of cash. I had thought many times of taking him out at night, but it'd have been too easy, too messy and not what I wanted to accomplish at all. I rigged myself with a tape recorder, so that when he finally did talk I'd have it all. But that night I was uneasy. I made a phone call._

"Excuse me. Is---"  
"Tracer? Is that really you?"

"Thank goodness, it's you Greg."  
"Tracer, I oughta kill you. What's shakin?"

"…I need some information."

"Good person to call. Who do you need the info on?"  
"Flavio Staba."  
"He's one of the few Dons left, isn't he?"  
"And he's about to bite the dust."

"Well, okay, I'll tell you what you need…"


	3. An Easy Confession and a Fight Scene

Chapter 3  
  
_The boss had called me to the office to talk one on one. Everything was going as well as a bullet goes through flesh._   
  
"You wanted to see me?"   
"Yeah. I need you to pull a big job."   
"Ok..."   
"We just robbed a huge bank. I need you to go and check out the bank and make sure no sleuths have been there."   
"Yeah boss."   
  
_There. All on tape. Now I need it in writing... __  
  
I went BACK to the bank._   
  
"Did you find who did it?"   
"Yeah. But have any other people come to check this out?"   
"No."   
"Keep it that way."   
  
_I left, and returned with the news._   
  
"No one was there."   
"Good. Ya know, you're pretty good for a rookie."   
"Thank you, sir."   
"Dismissed."   
  
_I walked out of the room, quite content. I called the manager._   
  
"I found him. Flavio Staba."   
"Ok, I'll call the police."   
"Call them and tell them to enter the building EXACTLY half an hour from now."   
"Got it."   
  
_Ok. Now was my favorite part. I took a swig of Irish Whiskey and walked back in._   
  
"Alright boss. Your days are up."   
"What?"   
  
_I whipped out my buster arm. It was the X-Buster Mark 17. Very beautiful._   
  
"Tracer Bullet. Reploid detective. You are under arrest by law for committing acts of robbery."   
"Hahahahaha! Very funny!"   
  
_He called out his goons. I was outnumbered 5 to 1, but the boss was unarmed, so I had it easy. I jumped into the air and fired at one, knocking him back into the wall. Two of them fired at me, and I curled into a ball and spun twice and landed on my feet. Kinda woozy from it, I stumbled over a chair and my gun went off, hitting one of the guys in the hand. I jumped to my feet and kicked him in the chest through part of the wall. I saw one of the guys aiming for my face, the other for my chest. I jumped to my right and knocked the gun out of the hand of the one aiming for my head, and rolled behind the other one and put him in a sleeper hold. I knocked him out, and hit the other one square in the face with a well-placed kick. There was one left, staring me down and failing miserably at it too. He dropped his guard for a mere moment while looking at me when a sweat drop got caught in his eye. I dashed towards him and pointed the gun up with my right hand, and pushed up HARD on his elbow with my left. I heard a loud CRACK, and all of a sudden, his arm _bent_ the wrong way. What I'd intended to do was make it do _just_ that. I blasted each guard in the chest, finishing them off._   
  
"Amazing. You finished them all off. Good for you."   
"SHUT UP. I am going to do you a little favor."   
"What's that?"   
"Write a full confession, and I'll give you your final taste of whiskey."   
"...Well, what kind of whiskey is it?"   
"Irish."   
"Hmm... given the situation, with the cops outside the door, yeah, I'll go with it."   
  
_And so it went. An easy job. However, my life was about to get a LOT harder from here on out._


	4. Zero, the Job, and Pool

Chapter Four  
  
_The case wasn't easy, but at least it was over with. A quick two-day operation. Not something I always get. I wish I got more of them though. They're just more fun. __  
  
I went to a local bar that I'd gone to for a long time. It was down a lonely street, and only lost tourists or people who knew about it were ever there. There was the occasional cop or politican who was getting stoned or wasted, but otherwise only regulars.   
  
As I walked in, a strange red reploid was causin some trouble._   
  
"HEY! Don't hold the barkeep by the collar. Not very neighborly of ya, if you know what I mean."   
"SHUT U--..." _He looked me over._ "Who are you?"   
"Tracer Bullet. Reploid Detective."   
"Reploid... Detective?"   
"Yeah."   
_He dropped his grip on the barkeep. He had long, blonde hair to his knees or lower, but it really didn't interest me._   
"Look. The barkeep here opened this joint when I turned 21. That was 7 years ago. I've been going here everyday since it opened. I don't want any trouble."   
"Really now. C'mere and have a seat."   
"I was planning on that anyway, not making a scene. Good thing that you're the only other one in here."   
"What'll ya have Tracer, the usual?" the barkeep asked. He was old, around 60. He had a fine build, about 5'11, not someone you mess with. He had a large bald spot: his whole head. He was a nice guy, but he had a temper that was nasty to see.  
"Burbon on the rocks, as always."   
"Comin up."   
"So what made you nearly kill our barkeep here?"   
"He called me a crazy jackass."   
"Well, he calls me that too, but you don't see ME killing him."   
"Look. I don't need you on my bad side..."   
"OR Vice versa."   
"Well no matter. The thing is, I'm not from this time."   
_I took a sip of my drink._ _Crazy sonuvabitch_. _I looked him over. I realized he may not be as crazy as he sounds._   
"I wouldn't think so. You look like you've seen a lot of carnage."   
"You have no idea."   
"I sympathize with ya though, I see a lot of violence and I do it willingly. I don't like to kill, but then again, I do when I have to."   
"...What year is this?"   
"God... I have no clue... They call this era the "Peaceful Times", so no one really knows."   
"I'm from a time where the reploids have revolted... about 21XX..."   
"Wow..."_I took another swig of my drink._ _God, maybe if I could just get plastered, this guy would make sense. Course, he wasn't TOTALLY crazy..._   
"So you're a detective?"   
"Yeah. I do the jobs put to me."   
  
_He shoved a wad of cash in front of me. Prolly bout $20,000._   
  
"I had something stolen from me. A saber."   
"How could anyone steal it from you? YOU, such an… imposing reploid! I swear dude, you are really creepy lookin in the dark. Someone's gotta have a lotta balls to take you on."   
"Go find it for me. It was stolen from me on First and Cass."   
"...By Cobo's Bar?"   
"Yeah. Right to the right of there, as a matter of fact."   
"...Alright. But I don't trust you too much, so you gonna come with me."   
"I can't do that. Orders are to stay here until I get the saber back. I have to wait here. My comrade may come back to this time to get me, but who knows. You up to it?"   
"...Buy me a beer, play me in a game of pool, and I'll do it. And I'll take half of the money you just stuck in front of me."   
"Deal."   
"Joe, gimme a Molson Ice."   
"Sure thing."   
  
_A tough game of pool. We were cussin like sailors, missin all sorts of easy shots. I won in the end, by one ball, but hell... It was the MOST fun game I'd played in years. __  
  
I left the bar, feeling good, and headed to First and Cass._


	5. Ciel's entrance and the Golden Fleece

Chapter Five   
  
_First and Cass. Near the entrance to Joe Louis Arena, an old relic of the late 1990's, early 2000. ANCIENT thing. Gotta love it. I went down to Cobo's Bar, and asked around. What I found was a slum drunk. But he seemed to know something._   
  
"Alright old man. Whaddaya know?"   
"I.. I shaw wa man.. big, BURLY man.... brown, shvivled hair, all crashee an' mushed up... An' you ain't hear'n nuttin from me until I gitsh me anutter DRINK!"   
"Give im another drink, here."   
"Sure thing."   
"Na, ash far ash I remimber it, he wash tall an had shree clawns falla'n 'im aroun, shoun'ed li'a hyena whin 'e laughed. Clean, crishp, deep ital'n voish. Tink he shed 'is name w's Gerrard 'r sumpin."   
"Thank you, sir. Get this man another drink."   
"Yessir."   
  
_I'd found what I needed. . . Sort of. It was a cold night, nothing unusual. But it was unusually quiet. An UNNERVING quiet. Too quiet... I knew something was wrong. Some nasty shit was gonna go down. It was up to me now to find out when and where. And how, for that matter._   
  
_Nights like that night are the kind when something really huge happens. I didn't like it, it made me nervous. I headed back to the bar, probably because I didn't know where _else_ to go._   
  
"Hum... Joe, gimme a drink."   
"Usual?"   
"Nah. Short n' straight up."   
"You got the feelin?"   
_I took the shot._   
"Me too."   
"Say, where's that red goon?"   
"Plastered. I propped him up in the corner. God was he ever WASTED. After you left, some guys came starting trouble, and he was too drunk to do anything. The PAS got the guys off of him, but he just kept getting drunker'n drunker'n drunker."   
"You finally used the pump-action?"   
"Pump Action Shotgun is a VERY good friend of mine Tracer. You know it. Matter of fact, didn't you GIVE it to me when the bar first opened?"   
"...God damn... I did! 'Nuther shot."   
"Yeah, sure. Jezzuz Christ, Haven't you come here ever'day since the place opened?"   
"Yep." _I drank the shot, and stared over to the reploid._ "Ya know, as I was out and about, I found who stole this guy's sword 'r' whatever."   
"Yeah? Who was it?"   
"Well, a drunkard told me, so I gotta piece it all together."   
"Was it the CSD?"   
"Cobo Slum Drunk?"   
"Yeah."   
"Yup."   
"Well damn man! He's like an oracle!"   
"Well, the man is tall, big and burly, crazy and messed up brown hair, sounds like a hyena when he laughs, had three 'clowns' followin' 'im. Had a clean, crisp italian voice, and he recalled amazingly the name that sounds sorta like Gerrard."   
"Hmm... I know who he means."   
"Wha?!?!"   
"George Capashen. Calls 'imself Gerrard for some reason."   
"Hmm..."   
"I'm s'prised you ain't remimb'rin him. You had the biggest damn barfight in here wi'thim, and that was the first time I used the PAS."   
"HIM?!"   
"Yup. 'Nuther shot?"   
"Yeah."   
_I took the shot, and walked over to the reploid._   
"Ya know, Joe."   
"Hmm?"   
"I was thinkin, while I was out."   
"What?"   
"Maybe this guy is fer real. Maybe we can trust 'im."   
"YOU'VE GONE INSANE!"   
"No. Think about it, Joe. YOU are the kin of the Black Bomber, Joe Louis. YOU have a kid named Joe Louis. And in the future, who knows, Joe Louis may still have blood goin out and about. And the technology of this guy... it's incred'ble. I think he's fer real."   
"You've gone plum nuts."   
"Have I Joe? Have I REALLY?" _That question spurred a puzzled look on his face. He was debating it, I knew he was. So as he was doing so, I left._

  
_I was in the heart of the downtown area. I stood in front of a good restaurant that'd been here for a long time, 'The Golden Fleece'. I saw a young girl walking down the street, but I'd had no clue why she was wearing what she was. It was NO fashion of these times._   
"Excuse me sir!"   
"Huh?"   
_The dame had long, blonde hair too, but she had green eyes that just made you crumble to pieces. But she wasn't trouble if she ever bothered to say 'Excuse me'._   
"Sir, can you help me?"   
"Yeah, sure. What'r you lookin fer?"   
"*huff huff* I've come here... *cough* This is gonna sound *huff puff* wierd, but from the year 22XX."   
"I've heard wierder in my day. Matter of fact, heheh... I've SEEN wierder TODAY!"   
"Heheheh... thank goodness..."   
"So what brings you to the prosperous times?" _What a wierd f**king day._   
"I was searching... in 22XX for a ... guy named Zero..."   
"What's 'e like?"   
_She handed me a photo. I looked for a minute and nearly died of a heart attack. The dame was gonna be pushy if she knew that I knew where he was. But I couldn't tell her, NOT just yet. But maybe I could use this situation to my advantage..._   
"Hm. I think I saw this guy today."   
"Oh really? WHERE?"   
"Settle, settle. I said I THINK."   
"oh..."   
"But what do you know about him?"   
"He's a Maverick Hunter, he was the defender of Earth against Sigma, along with Maverick Hunter X."   
"Mmmmhmmmm...."_The dame was freakin hysterical._ "That all?"   
"There's a lot more. Need I continue?"   
"...No, not really. You hungry?"   
"Oh my, yes I am... I haven't eaten in two days..."   
"Well, come in to this here restaraunt, it's good eatin. Greek food is good for ya, too... usually."   
"Thank you very much uh... what's your name?"   
"Tell me yours first, you lovely little creature."   
"My name's Ciel. I'm a scientist."   
"Oh?" _I flipped out my badge._ "Tracer Bullet. Reploid Detective."   
"Wow! A detective... in 22XX, those really don't exist anymore..."   
"Pity. Shall we get out of the rain?"   
"What ra---"   
**CRAAAAACCK! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Rumble rumble bumble rumble bumble rumble bum**   
"Yes, let's get out of the rain."   
_Thank god I've lived in this city my whole life... __  
  
We sat down at the bar._   
  
"So, Tracer, what do you do?"   
"Uh, hold on. Two gyro specials, Zikakis."   
"Zikakis?" Ciel asked.   
The guy at the bar looked at Ciel. "My name's Plamen Zikakis. Long time friend of Tracer. He's been comin to my restaurant for... god, how long now?"   
"Since I was 13... that makes 15 years now."   
"See? LONG time friend. And you're about to ask about my name, I know you are. My dad is Armenian, my mom is from Greece."   
"oh..."   
"Hey, cheer up! What's wrong, li'l lady?"   
"It's just... ah, nevermind, I'm just hungry."   
"HUNGRY? Why, I'll fix that!"   
"So Zikakis, hows the family?"   
"Oh, we've been doin great! Ever since you got those blackmailers offa me, the money's been goin to the right places. How's business been with you?"   
"Same old, same old. Just solved another bank heist."   
"Eh, good to hear."   
  
_Two large gyros came out, and I picked mine up, and looked at Ciel._   
  
"Hey, ain'cha gonna eat?"   
"Oh, foods here already?"   
"Heheh, sure is young lady! WHere'd you find this cute lil number, Tracer?"   
"Tourist that got lost."   
"heh, and you prolly said to go inside cause it was about to rain?"   
"Isn't that what ALWAYS happens this time of year?"   
"Hahaha! So true..."   
  
_My cell phone went off._   
  
"Hello."   
{Tracer? It's me, Joe. GET OVER HERE NOW.}   
"Got it."   
  
_I hung up fast, and threw my hat back on._   
  
"Watch her. If she wants more, put it on my tab. Joe's in trouble."   
"Alright. You got it, but here! Catch!"   
  
_He threw me some tear gas._   
  
"Thanks, Plamen."   
"Anytime.   
  
_I bolted as fast as I could down to the bar. I opened the door to find NOTHING good..._


	6. The Kid and the taking in of Ciel

Chapter Six

_Inside, Joe had moved the red reploid behind the counter, and only one other person was at the bar. Joe has PAS ready and rearing to go, but he dared not fire it. He only called me for emergencies. __  
  
The other guy at the bar looked about 17. He was probably 5'11, thin and muscular. He had short, buzz cut brown hair. A nice pair of sunglasses perfectly hid his eyes. A beautiful black italian wool suit covered his body, italian silk shirt under the jacket. He wore italian leather shoes, shined up nice. He was sipping a vodka shot and a coke._   
  
"Hey. You causin trouble here?"   
"Hmm?"   
"You heard me, kid. What're you doin here?"   
"Just getting a drink."   
"Yeah? Well, I DO NOT GET CALLED OVER HERE FOR NO DAMN REASON."   
"There's a reason."   
"Oh yeah?"   
"Yeah. Some guys were trying to mug me over there by the pool table. So I shot the damned mutherf*ckers."   
"That's why. Now, are you really old enough to drink?"   
"Yeah."   
"I'm gonna need to see your ID."   
  
_He handed it to me. I took it and looked for a second and tore it to pieces._   
  
"WHATTHEFUCK DID YOU JUST DO MAN?"   
"It's fake." _I whipped out my buster arm. He was scared. I could tell, and that meant what I wanted to do worked._   
"H...h...how can you tell?"   
"Trust me. I made fake ID's that no one can tell if it's fake. This is easy to tell it's fake."   
"That so?"   
"Yeah."   
"Hmph."   
"Tell me your name, kid."   
"No."   
"DAMNIT TELL ME!"   
"...Dan."   
"Ok. Now how old are you?"   
"18."   
"Now, are you going to leave quietly?"   
"...Will I go to jail...?"   
"...Well, you could serve your jailtime working for me."   
"Is it better than prison?"   
"Tracer Bullet, Reploid Detective."   
"...Talk with the police."   
"Boy, I work with the police. They won't care."   
"...Ok..."   
  
_He took off the sunglasses. He had big, expressive, brown eyes that just made you melt like butter. But I don't melt, but it did affect me a bit. He amazed even me, with those eyes._   
  
"Ok. I'll go outside and talk with them."   
  
_I talked with the police about it outside._

"Damnit Tracer, you know I can't let you do that."

"Yes, Captain, you can. You know it and I know it."

"DAMN the community service hours. Fine, he works with you."  
  
~Meanwhile, in the bar~   
  
"Son, do you have any idea why I called Tracer?"   
"Yeah... I'm sorry, sir."   
"Well, I'm going to forgive you. Did the same thing m'self once. So you got sympathy from me. But just don't go doin that again."   
"Sure thing."   
  
_I walked in, and stared him straight in the eye._   
  
"Get your coat on, if you brought it. It's a bit of a walk to my office."  
  
_I walked slowly that night. I'm not sure why, but the day'd been so f*cked up that I really didnt' give a shit. Dan walked slowly beside me, head hung low as if in shame. I kinda felt bad for him... not really knowing why. His suit had water droplets running off of it, mine was just drenched. And it felt sorta wierd, too, for me to walk along side someone, ANYONE, without them having handcuffs on._   
  
"How many years?"   
"S'cuse me?"   
"How long do I have to work?"   
_I looked up at the sky, clouds clearing._ "Five years."   
"Oh..."   
"Hey, you could be in prison for the next 50 years to the rest of your life. But I negotiated for your sake."   
"Thanks... hey, the rain stopped."   
_We looked up. The full moon shone bring, "...sumpin ya jes don' see 'roun' Detroit no mo'."... Quote some southerner I talked to once._   
"OH SHIT! Dan! Follow me!"   
"Huh? Where we going?"   
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit...GOD DAMN I hope Zikakis took care of her..."   
_We got to the Golden Fleece. I sat down next to Ciel in a hurry, motioned to Zikakis for 2 beers, motioned Dan to sit next to me and have one of them, and then I caught my breath._   
"Tracer! Your back!" Ciel said happily.  
"And all out of breath, as per usual, eh Tracer?" Plamen laughed.  
"Sh...shut...*huff huff* Shut up, Zikakis."   
"Heheheh, two beers, here ya go."   
_I took a swig of my beer, and put it down._   
"Hey, Plamen, lemme talk to you in private for a minute..."   
"Uh oh... You never call me that or ask me that, and now you're doing both... oh shit... This's gotta be important. Come, to the office."   
  
_His office was small, a little closet with a light and desk._   
  
"Zikakis, what am I gonna do?"   
"Whaddaya mean?"   
"LOOK. My day has been FUCKED UP. MAJORLY. First, I get a job from a strange red reploid from the future. Then, heheh, then I drag in here that girl Ciel, heheheheh...THEN I have to take care of the other kid for the next five years while he works off a jail sentence.... I can't do it. I can't take care of em both."   
"..."   
"I wish I could figure out what to do."   
**Knock knock knock**   
"I'll see who it is Zikakis."   
_It was Ciel._   
"Tracer, Can I see you for a moment?"   
"Yeah." _I stepped out._   
"I was wondering... if I could stay here, with Plamen, until I find Zero."   
"...I'll check."   
  
_I told Zikakis, he walked out. He kept his head low, put his hands together and hung them down. He looked up at her, smile on his face, and outstretched his arms._   
  
"Welcome, Ciel."   
"Oh, THANK YOU!"   
"Say, Tracer, shouldn't you get back to the office?"   
"Yeah. See you later, Zikakis. So long, Ciel."   
"Bye!"   
"See ya later."   
  
_I grabbed my beer by the neck and Dan by the collar and headed out the door. __  
  
It wasn't a long walk back to the office. I motioned to the couch._   
  
"Ya can crash there for the night. I've got my chair to sit in and relax in, some paper work to do."   
"Sure thing. Thanks."   
  
_He came in, took off his suit jacket, and plopped down on the couch. He was out like a light. Fortunatley, I had things to do so early in the night. __  
  
I headed back to my files, and looked at files under 'C'. I found Capashen in there, and studied the file. He had a place in Chicago that was fairly big. I figured I would search around town for another day then head to chicago, where some big stuff was gonna happen. I slumped into my chair, propped my feet up on the table, and pulled the brim of my hat over my eyes and fell asleep._

_The phone went off at about 2:30 in the morning. I quickly, yet groggily, answered._

"Tracer."

{Hey, Tracer, it's Joe. I hate to call you so early.}

"This had BETTER be important, Joe."

{…well… you know that Capashen guy?}

"Yeah?"

{He's headed for the first train to Chicago tomorrow morning.}

"I'd kiss you, but I'm not that kinda guy."

{He was stoned beyond stoned. I got it out of him.}  
"Never threaten with drinks, man."

{It's the best way.}

"Ok. Talk to you… later."

I hung up. I quickly called the train station, always open.

"Hello, East Detroit Train Depot? Yes, I'd like 2 tickets for the first train to Chicago."

{Alright, your tickets will be waiting for you in front of your home at 5:30 AM. May I ask who the resident is?}

"Tracer Bullet."

{The detective?}

"Yes."

{Very well. Sleep well, you'll need it. We'll be there in 3 hours.}

"Wonderful."

I hung up and quickly fell asleep.


End file.
